Tequila Glasses & Shotgun Blasts
by Illyria13
Summary: AU They are tired of living and working for a government they do not trust. But now it is their time to strike,and together they will walk the path of their choosing. They are untouchable, unstoppable, and the world will fall to its' knees before them.


Tequila Glasses & Shotgun Blasts

By Illyria13

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Timeframe: AU at the end of S5. Michelle dies but not Tony. Set years later; Tony and Jack are forced to keep working for the government.

Summary: They are tired of living for everyone but themselves and tired of working for a government they do not trust. But now it is their time to strike, and together they will walk the path of their choosing. They are untouchable and unstoppable, and the world will fall to its' knees before them. J/T

Warning: THERE IS SLASH!!! If you do not care for this, then you are welcome to go back and not read this. For those who read it, this is your warning. Please do not send a scathing review about the evils of homosexuality. I understand that some people do not like slash; however, there are others who do. It is your own personal opinion, so please respect the fact that not everybody finds it bad. Thank you! Please note, it is not very graphic, if you are worried.

//

He stared forward through the windshield, the glass spattered with rain and blood, the crimson and clear liquids mixing in a messy smear and sparkling like diamonds and rubies. _Tears of blood_, he thought to himself and inwardly he laughed at the darkly hidden truth in the words. A low moan came from his right and instinctively, he turned towards it, his attention caught by the pain hidden within the sound. Glancing over the still form, he noted that no new injuries had appeared, no hidden secrets blossomed to the surface; he wouldn't have been surprised if they had, though, as the man in the passenger seat was just as bad as him at hiding his pain. They had both gotten better at uncovering such things, the closeness between them not allowing secrets that would harm either, or both, of them. Theirs is a relationship of symbiosis and choice and they feel more alive because of it. But that didn't stop either of their unrelenting stubborn natures from rising up at times, in their attempts to protect the other from pain or harm.

So a part of him was surprised that the man was just as injured as he'd been before he'd been dragged to the car, while another part was a mixture of relief and anger. Relief that there _were_ no new injuries and anger that there were any at all. He gritted his teeth and slammed a fist down on the steering wheel in anger. Damn it! They weren't even supposed to be there in that situation. He turned the corner sharply, his emotions driving his actions, and reflected on how they'd gotten in this position in the first place.

A group of agents had been tracking a smuggled in shipment of weapons of both small arms and light weapons that included a rather large assortment of guns, ranging from handguns to long guns to mounted weapons. The arms dealer himself was an extremely accomplished and elusive man, slipping in and out of different airports and transportation systems unnoticed, and the government was having a very difficult time tracking him. They'd finally gotten word of a major buy that was going to go down between the dealer and another gunrunner working for a foreign government in an area of political unrest, but they weren't sure where. They also didn't care, as they hoped to prevent the buy from occurring in the first place and arrest the individuals involved. The one problem they had? Their few undercover agents had either been seen or killed by the dealers in a bust that hadn't ended well for them.

Enter Jack and Tony. The agency hadn't been pleased to bring them in, but knew that if they wanted to succeed, they'd need two men that were unknown by the gunrunners and could handle the op. Not to mention the fact that both of them seemed incapable of dying, considering all the stunts they'd managed to pull off over the past years. They were an unstoppable force, a partnership that needed no communication, and in the short amount of time the agency had before the buy, the duo was their only option.

If they refused, they'd be brought up on so many charges they'd be lucky to see the light of day again. After Michelle had died, both he and Tony had attempted to leave the agency, but had been told in no uncertain terms that they weren't allowed to resign. And so they'd stayed, as independent contractors of sorts, chained to an agency and government they no longer trusted. But they'd had no choice, as Tony adamantly refused to go back to prison and Jack didn't want to be separated from him. While neither of them was pleased at being dragged in to take care of the mess the government had made of the situation, they both knew that they had no choice.

And that's how they found themselves caught in a firefight between the two factions of arms traffickers in the middle of an abandoned warehouse district in some city, having failed to arrest the individuals in question. The reason they were dodging bullets and blasts and grenades? The agency had screwed up. No surprise there. Their intel had been wrong; so wrong, in fact, that Jack and Tony had found themselves facing off with a grand total of eleven or twelve very armed, highly skilled men that didn't like the idea of being arrested. Of course, neither of them was going to allow themselves die here either, so the resulting gun battle had ended with every gunrunner dead. Needless to say, the agency was not pleased.

He snorted to himself. What did they expect would happen when you backed a couple of arms dealer with a bunch of loaded weapons into a corner? Did they think they would come peacefully without getting a shot off? Not fucking likely. He'd tried to warn them but they didn't want to listen, not that he was surprised. They were there to take orders and follow directions without question, and nobody gave a damn about their opinion. Both he and Tony weren't the most liked men around anymore, but they still knew what the hell they were talking about. And now, because of the stupidity of the government, they were banged all to hell and more than a little pissed off.

More importantly, Tony had almost died.

He glanced over at his passenger once more to reassure himself as to his safety. Tony looked like hell, blood oozing down one side of his face from a deep gash near his hairline, a deep purple bruise near his jaw that looked painful and various other scrapes and cuts peppered his tanned skin. But the most worrying of his injuries was the gunshot wound on his upper left arm and the head wound he'd sustained that more than likely meant a concussion. He'd bandaged him up the best he'd could, but he was desperate to get them back to their hotel so he could take a better look. Jack would prefer taking him to a hospital but knew how much Tony despised them, and he was pretty sure the wounds weren't as bad as they'd looked. If they turned out to be worse, he'd take him then but he cared for his lover's state of mind just as much as his physical one. In any case, both he and Tony had a fairly decent amount of medical knowledge and he was confident they could handle it themselves.

The loud screech of brakes being slammed and tires burning rubber broke through the haze of anger and he cursed himself for his inattention. He glanced in the rearview mirror, noting that he had just run a red light and thankful that neither their car nor any others had gotten hit. He looked over to make sure Tony was undisturbed and then turned back to the road, grateful that they were close to their hotel. He skidded into the parking lot in a wide, yet controlled, turn and parked in the nearest spot to their room located on the first floor. Jumping out, he moved to their door and unlocked it, making sure to turn on the lights and clear a path from the door to the bed, knowing he didn't want to trip over any furniture while getting Tony inside. He removed his jacket and threw it over the nearest chair before returning to his partner.

With very little effort, he swung the other man into his arms, knowing that if he were awake, Tony would be very unhappy at the position. Right now, however, Jack really didn't care. He needed to get the injured man inside the room and this was the easiest way to do it. He spared a small grin to himself as he realized how much he enjoyed holding Tony close. Pushing the door open with his back, he quickly entered and moved immediately to the bed, laying the unconscious man down on top of the covers. He went swiftly back to the SUV, grabbed their two bags, and returned to the room, locking the door and barricading it with the armchair. Sifting through one of the bags, he took out the extensive medical kit and went to work.

Removing the shreds of cloth he'd used to cover the wound, he looked first at the gunshot on Tony's arm. Probing it, he was extremely relieved to see that the bullet had simply skimmed the surface of the bicep, with no entrance or exit wound. It was a rather long and somewhat deep abrasion, however, and Jack put in seven stitches to help keep it closed, rinsing it with antiseptic and warm water before covering it with gauze. He let out a deep breath, thankful that at least one of the two major concerns was minor, though he'd need to keep an eye on Tony to stop him from tearing the stitches. The next one he examined was the head wound, wincing as he brushed against the lump forming and hating the entire situation all over again as Tony let out a moan of pain at the contact. Using a small penlight, he checked his pupil responses, relieved that they focused on the light and constricted at the intrusion. So, no concussion, though he'd be judging that throughout the course of the night. Glad that the most serious injuries were taken care of, he continued his exploration, checking for anything that had been hidden from him. He frowned when he reached Tony's right leg, finding a rather large contusion that was nearly black in its bruising, and wondered how the injury had occurred. An image of Tony being thrown across the ground came to him as he gently traced the wound with his fingers, and he felt a spark of anger as he remembered that the boxes Tony had taken cover behind had been hit by a grenade. Some of the debris must have hit him as he was thrown out of the way by the force of the blast. There was nothing to be done about it now, however, and Tony was alive, so it seemed he'd come out no worse for wear.

Satisfied that Tony was in relatively good condition, Jack removed his bloody clothes and redressed his lover in clean pants. He left him shirtless, too tired to wrestle him into a shirt that would be very difficult to put on with his arm in the condition it was in. Washing his hands and discarding of the used supplies, he changed his own clothes before finally taking a moment to breathe and regroup.

Sinking into the chair against the door, he sighed in relief that they'd both dodged a bullet, literally and figuratively, and were now safe and sound. Well, as safe as two men going rogue from the whole fucking government after taking out a large group of arms dealers and hiding some of their guns could be. He rested his head against the doorknob as he snorted in amusement, wishing that he could see the looks on their faces when the agency realized that Jack and Tony weren't playing by the rules anymore. Then again, unbeknownst to them, Jack and Tony hadn't been doing so for a very long time.

Jack shifted his eyes to the ceiling as he leaned back in the chair, going through the plans they'd set in motion over a year ago. They'd realized quickly enough that they were never going to be free of the government unless they did something themselves, and together, they'd begun to plan. Jack had called in every favor he held, even threatened some out of people, and gotten them each multiple new passports, identities and every single legal document they needed to prove it. Tony had begun gathering all the resources they held at their disposal and set up safe houses in various countries around the world, stocking them with weapons, food, supplies and money. Lastly, they began creating a cover that would make them near untouchable, slowly using the past months to put in various appearances at weapons deals, drug buys and smuggling operations. They'd crafted themselves to be dangerous men with an indifference to others' lives and if a part of it was true, what did it matter? They needed a way to survive once they split, and if they were believed to be mercenaries or assassins, the safer they would be. The harder and more obscure their 'past', the better off they'd be. Nobody, not even bounty hunters, liked going up against men with an unknown history, in case they pissed off the wrong people.

There were so many reasons why they were doing it and after all this time, it simply became too much. They were tired of being controlled, tired of losing everyone they loved, tired of simply going through the motions and not being allowed to live. They hated the lies and they hated the politics and they were done being slaves. They'd sacrificed their lives, their sanity, their morals and their dignity and for what? For Teri to die at the hands of a traitor, for Michelle to die because of their own government, and for Kim to die at her own hand because she decided that living was too damn hard? For Tony to go to jail for protecting his wife, and for Jack to be forced to play dead to keep safe? Fuck that.

All they had left was each other and they'd sworn to themselves that they _would not_ lose this. If they had to kill every person that came after them, then so be it, because this was all that mattered.

Jack looked back to the bed, checking the occupant, and felt the tension seep out of his muscles as he gazed at the sleeping face of his lover. Even now, after all this time, it still seemed surreal. Both men would freely admit that, before their lives went to hell, the two of them would have never imagined their relationship to become this close, let alone become intimate. But in a way, the similarities were glaringly obvious and now, he wondered how they'd ever lived without the other.

They were gin and tonic, rum and coke, vodka and Kahlua, and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Because they had picked up the pieces and glued each other together, and now they are forever entwined.

The first time they'd gone to bed together had been purely platonic; one bed and two men in a room set up for their cover, and sharing the bed was the only plausibility. But then, it had continued, and before they knew it, they were screwing each other into the mattress. It had started as need, as raw unadulterated pain, but it had grown into something more. Neither of them knew when it had happened, but one night they went to bed and the next morning had woken feeling whole for the first time in a long time. Eventually, they had given up the pretext of thinking each was just a one-night stand, and had gravitated to the other at all times. During work, they'd go out of their way to talk to the other, to brush hands as they passed files and to make coffee for one another. Afterwards, they'd find excuses to leave at the same time, get dinner and beer somewhere together, and end up at someone's apartment.

They had realized at the same time that it had become a daily ritual, only broken by undercover ops or late night paperwork. It had come to them both one night in bed, where they lay curled around each other, and a silent communication had passed between them. They didn't know if it was love, but they knew that it was possessive necessity and nothing would be coming between them now. They had sealed the deal with a searing kiss and each had wondered if maybe, one day it would be love.

It didn't mean that they each loved their wives any less, but both Teri and Michelle had been dead for a while and it was difficult to keep clinging on to ghosts. They'd both needed something in the present to latch onto, a safety vest to keep them afloat. Too many bad memories lived in each of them, and the two men could kill the power in a city with the amount of darkness in their nightmares.

Jack had realized it one day after a particularly bad mission that had left Tony shaken and pale. He'd been woken that night by Tony's screams and the piercing sounds had rattled him more than he cared to admit. Stunned to realize that Tony wasn't in the bed next to him, he'd glanced around the room until he located the curled form in the corner of the room. It had been nearly impossible to get close to him, as Tony would cower and cry and scream not to be touched, and the sight had wreaked havoc on Jack's nerves. When he had finally gotten Tony to wake up, he'd been nearly catatonic and unresponsive for almost three hours, before finally blinking and collapsing into Jack's arms, begging for his gun and death and hell all at once. He'd held him close and soothed him with both his words and his presence, being careful not to let him feel trapped, and damned every person out there that had ever hurt the man in his arms. He'd damned God and the Devil and the President and Death and by the time he'd stopped, Tony had fallen back into slumber, face stained with pain and agony. But Jack's anger had remained, a tumultuous blend of hate and despair, seeds of resentment blooming in his mind.

He'd kept a closer eye on his younger lover for weeks after that, even after Tony had assured him that it was simply a heat of the moment thing. He'd understood, having been there himself, but it didn't stop him from watching and worrying, because Jack had known only one thing.

Losing Teri had killed him, but losing Tony would fucking break him.

Because if Tony died, Jack knew that he'd do everything in his power to join him, and he'd burn the entire world to the ground first.

With Teri, it had been guilt, anger and loss that had pushed him to die, but in the end, someone had pulled him back from that ledge. With Tony, however, it would be insanity that drove him to the edge and absolutely nothing would be able to stop him.

A sound from the bed pulled him out of his thoughts and he swiftly crossed the few steps from his chair to the bed. The battered form was struggling weakly against the sheets, caught in a haze of nightmares and reality. He spoke softly, hoping to both soothe the other and gain his attention, and gently untangled him from the restricting blankets. When he finally focused his eyes on him, Jack smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his left hand palm down on the others' chest to prevent him from moving too much.

"Hey, Tony. How are you feeling?"

Tony lifted dark eyes to meet blue, a smile crossing his face.

"Like I just got in a gunfight with a bunch of arms dealers. What about you?"

Jack chuckled, glad that Tony was speaking with sarcasm and humor, and replied in kind.

"Me, I'm fine. Although I think that I got caught up in your little fight. And here I was thinking you didn't need me to fight your battles for you. You must be getting soft."

"Oh, really?" Tony smirked mischievously at the other man and Jack felt his stomach tighten at the expression.

Jack groaned as Tony reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the palm softly. It is intimate and seductive and soothing all at once and he realized that he'd missed this connection, in the brief time that Tony had been unconscious.

As their lips met softly, they both moaned as the act of simply feeling each other made their nerve ends ignite. Hands met and fingers brushed over skin, mindful of cuts and bruises, and they kissed, pouring their emotions into it. In this act, they are apologizing and reassuring and soothing each other, and the world falls away. They focus on each other and ignore what has happened, because it is these moments that allow them to maintain their sanity. They break apart in order to breathe, and relax as their pulses return to normal. Jack climbs smoothly over Tony and sits with his back to the headboard, while Tony rearranges himself in Jack's arms, his head resting on the other's chest. They stay like this for a few moments, Jack carding his hand through Tony's hair and Tony listening to Jack's heartbeat. The silence is broken by Tony and his voice is low yet serious.

"I'm done with this, Jack, with all of it. It's time."

Jack doesn't move while he replies, his body staying relaxed and his hand continuing its' motion. He isn't surprised because it is exactly what he was expecting, and a part of him is relieved beyond measure.

"I know, Tony. I agree."

Just like that, they have sealed their fates and started on this path they began together long ago. Because it is far past time and they should have done this before, but in the end, it doesn't matter. They are doing it now and soon, soon they will be free.

And if the government or God or the Devil wants to try and stop them, they will fight and win, because Jack and Tony deserve for this to end more than anything else.

They are two very messed up shards of a mirror that was never whole. Apart, they are deadly and silent, jagged and splintered and seething anger. But together, together they are much more; destructive vengeance and grace beyond any the world has seen. Because the paths of their lives have led them to this moment and now, there is no going back, even if they wanted to. But they don't and they can't and it really doesn't matter to them.

This is their new reality, these lives of deceit and mistrust. But it is alright. It is just fine. All they need is what is right here, in this moment and this space. They will leave behind these tattered lives that are no longer meaningful and find something different, out there in the thriving cities of the powerful and the weak. All they had to do now was harness the powers that existed, and control it for their own purposes. They were through being pawns.

They look at each other; glances filled with hidden messages, and know that this is the dawn of a new era, for them and for the world. What stretches before them is a path of their making, with only the rules and decisions that they choose to make. There are no confining morals, no restricting orders; no chants about doing things for the 'good of the people'. They no longer had to hear the damn hollow words of gratuity and apology, spoken by a President that could never truly understand the loss, only knowing that somehow he needed to feel sorry in the face of their pain.

Tonight there is nothing but the comfort they find in each others' arms and tomorrow there is nothing but the solace of finally living out their lives. They are no longer whipping boys that yield to their master and no longer pet pit bulls kept harnessed by a leash. These two men have done what they swore to do and came out far higher than they thought possible.

But for now they will sleep and dream together in peace.

//

After getting to their first safe house they'd picked, in the monstrous city of Las Vegas, they'd tumbled into bed together, needing the mind-numbing actions to drown out everything else. They are celebrating their victory and they are waiting for it to be complete but all that matters right now is each other. There is time later for thinking, for planning and executing their decisions, but until then all they have are warm bodies and cool sheets and moonlight glowing through the curtained window.

The next morning, Jack wakes early and goes for a run, scouting the area and looking for signs of them being followed. The small hotel they were staying in was in a less crowded part of the city, complete with a small hill to one side and behind and a stash of trees. It had worked, however, because the location was still in Vegas, and the sheer volume of the city would make them very difficult to track. Although he and Tony both know that they won't be caught, they do not want the slightest thing to interfere with their plans for the day. They've stayed in this place long enough and they need to leave, but it needed to happen in the way they'd set it up.

As he makes the slow trek between the door and the truck, he smiles inwardly as he feels the eyes of his hidden watchers tracking his every movement. He knows, as only one who has been in that position, that they are waiting for any sign of aggression from him, their fingers itching over the triggers of their weapons. Their thoughts are filled with anger, at the traitor within their sight, and they are hard pressed to keep from shooting him. But they will wait, like the good little soldiers they are, and follow their orders, just as he knows that the man watching his magnified form through the scope of his rifle is simply waiting for the command to come from his master. He smirks, allowing the expression to slide across his face, because he knows that their wait is in vain. They aren't getting their kill order.

At least, not before they get taken out themselves.

A sharp crack rings out, cutting through the still air and reverberating off the surrounding trees and buildings, and Jack knows that this shot took out the sniper, removing him from the deadly scope. He takes advantage and ducks, rolling smoothly underneath the truth to the other side. Four more shots shatter the pounding of his blood in his ears and he waits for the sixth, knowing that once it is fired the coast is clear. His thoughts are confirmed with the final echoing bang of the rifle being fired and he stands, brushing dust from his jeans.

He picks up the bag he had dropped and continued with the job of packing the truck. He does nothing when he hears footsteps softly treading behind him, keeping his focus on his task, and closes the door when he is finished. Turning around, he can't stop the smile from stretching his face at the appearance of the dark-haired man, complete with deadly weapon in one hand and a sly expression. He leans against the side of the truck, crossing his arms against his chest, and tilted his head up and to the right in a silent challenge at the arrival.

"Took you long enough." _Thanks for having my back, Tony._

"Guy kept shifting position." _Always, Jack. _

They keep their eyes locked on the others' for several moments before letting everything go in one fell swoop. Their lips crashed together, tongues dueling in a fierce battle of control as hands hooked in belt loops and t-shirts. They allowed themselves to continue for a few minutes more, and then broke apart, oxygen becoming an issue. Instincts refused to let them do anything more, as they were far too exposed out in the open but a silent communication passed through them and both knew they weren't done. But the brief moment of contact had allowed them to reconnect and reassure.

Tony moved first, giving him one last glance before going around the truck and sliding into the passenger seat of the cab. He stowed the rifle he had used to take out the team tracking them and then leaned back in the seat, glancing over his shoulder at his lover with a possessive smirk. Jack shook his head at his antics and slid his sunglasses on, before climbing into the drivers' seat and starting the engine. He reversed quickly and peeled out, dust rising in the air, and made his way to the road. After driving for a few minutes, he glanced over at Tony and nodded, giving him silent permission. Tony nodded back and reached into his pocket, pulling out a plain black cell phone. He entered in a series of numbers without hesitation before disassembling the phone and throwing the pieces out of the window. Without looking, he spoke a soft warning, cautioning him.

"15 seconds, Jack."

Jack didn't hesitate and floored the gas.

Behind them, three buildings exploded, plaster and dust and bricks pushed into the air by the concussive force. The blast levels thirteen floors and countless people, some killed in the initial blast and others through the collapse of roofs and floors. Grey smoke immediately fills the sky in a large plume, gaining the attention of the police, the fire department and all other emergency responders and the sound of sirens fill the air. They are too intent on containing the fire and rescuing survivors, that the arrival of a government team looking for a group tracking two dangerous fugitives is not their biggest concern. It is only later that the bodies of the dead agents are discovered and by now, the two men are long gone.

They continue to drive and don't look back because there is nothing left but the fiery smoke and the ashes, and the slowly pooling blood drying in the desert heat.

A silent agreement passed between them that there was no undoing their actions and they had known it when they'd started on this road. But like the same discussions they'd held in twisted sheets and darkened motel rooms, when they'd vented their rage and self-hate in each others arms through tears and bodies through sex, they reached the same conclusion.

This is the price of their freedom.

And they refused to be the only ones to pay it.

//

End.

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